


Scratching Posts and Love

by talesofsuspense



Series: Steve and His Cat [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cats, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pets, Post-Avengers (2012), Steve has a cat, and then Steve and Tony have a cat, there’s like 0 plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 20:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofsuspense/pseuds/talesofsuspense
Summary: There’s a million reasons he can’t and shouldn’t get a pet, but his therapist apparently thinks they’re all just bad excuses and tells him as much.





	Scratching Posts and Love

**Author's Note:**

> There’s not point or plot to this story honestly and I’m sorry. Basically, I got attached to this random headcanon of Steve having a cat and it grew into... this mess. 
> 
> This took me forever to actually complete and that’s probably because there’s no plot. Shoutout to Adora for being excited about this mess and Emilia for reading a quarter of it when I started and cheering me on. 
> 
> Also, the cat is absolutely based off my childhood cat of the same name. I love you Millie, your legacy lives on!
> 
> No beta so any mistake you will almost certainly find are all me.

When Steve wakes up in the future it’s without a doubt the most disorienting thing to ever happen to him. It feels like the vertigo he always got pre-serum, but on a grander scale. Instead of just feeling like he’s spinning for a few seconds when he moves too suddenly, it’s like the entire universe is whipping around rapidly and Steve’s just hanging on for the ride as tightly as he can while trying not to vomit. Everything is different and nothing’s the same. Even Brooklyn, the city he’d been born and raised in and thought he’d always know like a second skin is completely different. It’s occupied by different people with unfamiliar subcultures and insanely high rent prices. Where family-owned shops he used to visit were once located are now occupied by expensive stores that don’t even cater to the families that live in the neighborhood.   
  
There’s nothing grounding him to this modern world, and as much as he wanders around trying to embrace it, can recognize the numerous improvements from the forties, it’s still just a sea of strange things and strange faces and he never really knows what to do with himself. He spends a lot of time sulking, though he gets creative with the forms he does that in. Sometimes he sulks over a cup of coffee at a diner, other times into a punching bag, or on a random bench in the park.    
  
When he eventually relents and starts seeing the therapist SHIELD has been pushing him into, he tells the therapist all of this and almost laughs in her face when she asks if he’s ever considered getting a pet.    
  
It’s funny because growing up Steve had always wanted a pet. He’d wanted a dog that he could take for walks and curl up with on his and his ma’s ratty old couch. Of course, they couldn’t afford one and he was allergic to nearly every breed anyway. He used to leave scraps out in the alleys by their apartment for the stray animals to eat whenever he was sick enough that he lost his appetite, or if they had a little extra to spare — a rarity for sure.    
  
But then he’d gone off to war, got frozen in a block of ice, and woke up decades later in an entirely unfamiliar world. Now, he can’t imagine having a pet. He likes petting dogs being walked through Central Park, and waves at the cats he sees in apartment windows, but he doesn’t need one of his own. He doesn’t have the time for one. He can’t commit to having to look after something entirely reliant on him when he’s barely looking after himself. There’s a million reasons he can’t and shouldn’t get a pet, but his therapist apparently thinks they’re all just bad excuses and tells him as much.   
  
Which is why he ends up standing at the entrance to the local humane society, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to force himself to walk through the doors. He doesn’t even know why he feels so nervous about, but it’s like once he steps foot inside he’s going to be stuck in a lifelong commitment of caring for this animal. It terrifies him honestly.    
  
Eventually he forces himself in and asks the older woman at the desk if she can help him. She laughs when he asks if they have fish — what? It was a simple pet, something Steve would be less likely to get heartbreakingly attached to, or accidentally kill — until she realizes he’s serious and then tells him that humane societies typically don’t take in fish and if he wants one he should try a pet store instead. But Steve is already there so he asks to see the dogs and cats instead, following her back through a metal door into a hallway that immediately smells exactly like what it is, room after room occupied by dozens of animals. The woman tells him to hit the service buttons along the wall if he sees an animal he’s interested in, and walks back to the lobby, leaving him to his own devices.

The first section is full of kittens, ranging from a few weeks to a few months old. They’re cute, balls of orange, white, black, and brown fur bouncing around their little room onto toys and each other. He pauses in front of them momentarily, laughing at their antics and smiling at the little black kitten that wanders up to him and tries pawing at him through the glass, meowing loudly. But Steve doesn’t really want something so energetic and fragile right now, so he continues walking.

The second section is the older cats, three seperate rooms for the different ages. The first one is labeled as ages one to four, the second as five to ten, and the third just says “senior”. There are plenty of cute cats here too, including a five year old brother and sister pair of orange tabbies named Tigger and Tigra who watched Steve in sync as he walks past. Still, he doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of the cats, and he continues on, beginning to wonder whether or not he really would end up with a fish.

He has to walk through another metal door to get to the remaining sections, but as soon as he hears barks he realizes why. He’s smiling before he even reaches the glass in front of the third section, the puppy room, and thinks that maybe now he’ll find someone to take home with him.

There are plenty of puppies to choose from, and they’re all cute. Steve stands and laughs at a small basset hound puppy with long floppy ears who seemingly lacks basic coordination, tripping over himself with every step. There’s a group of yellow lab puppies fighting over a bone, barking and growling at each other, slobbering over every inch of the bone they can reach. It’s adorable to watch, and Steve thinks that maybe his therapist is right about a pet being beneficial for people’s health, even if he still isn’t sold on it being the best idea for himself. 

The fourth and final section is several rooms filled with different breeds of older ages. One room is all pugs and Steve can’t help but laugh looking at them. They’re cute despite their ridiculous appearances, or maybe because of it. The next room is labs of different color and Steve is immediately drawn to them, they’re his favorite breed of dog, with their sweet temperaments and nice coats. One black lab comes up to him at the section that’s barred rather than covered by glass, and Steve pats his head through the bars, laughing when he licks at his arm. 

They’re all cute, but Steve still doesn’t feel like any of them are right for him, or would be a good fit for his little apartment. He figured this would happen, he tried telling his therapist too, but at least he can say he gave it a shot. He thinks maybe he’ll stop at a pet store on the way home and get a Betta fish, or a goldfish, to take home. If anything, it’ll be a very routine pet to take care of, and he can still talk to it. He sighs, jingling his keys in his pocket and starts walking back out of the dog area, ready to accept defeat.

Fate must not be ready to accept defeat though, because as he walks past “senior” cat room again, one of them catches his eye. He isn’t even sure what it is, or how he missed the cat the first time he walked past, since he’s sure she was still there, but he can’t take his eyes off of her. She’s laying in the very back left corner in the room, perched on a shelf attached to the wall, as far from the other cats as she can be, with her paws crossed in front of her. Her fur is long around her face and a more medium length on the rest of her body with an extremely fluffy tail. She’s a grey tabby, with the stripes most prominent on her legs and face. She looks supremely unimpressed with everything going on around her and vaguely grumpy, swishing her tail and blinking her eyes slowly every so often. When she finally meets Steve’s eyes through the glass, staring at him with her own piercing yellow eyes, Steve can’t help but think, “Oh, my god. This is the cat for me.”

He hits the red service button on the wall next to the room and a few moments later the same older woman from the desk walks over to him, her heels clicking lightly on the concrete floor. Steve smiles at her, thanking her for helping him, and points to the cat he wants.

“Millie?” The woman asks, looking and sounding shocked. “Are you sure? She has a bit of an unpleasant disposition.”

Steve frowns at that, but nods nonetheless, “I’m sure. She’s the one for me.”

“Well let me go get Jane then,” she smiles at him, and Steve thinks it looks genuine enough. “Jane is the only one Millie likes. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled someone else likes her favorite grandma cat, even if it means she’s leaving. You can wait in that room behind you.”

Steve is sitting on the floor when a young woman who must be Jane walks in, carrying a large lump of gray fur in her arms. Steve grins up at them and Jane smiles back, kneeling down on the floor in front of him and setting Millie between them.

“Hi, I’m Steve,” Steve introduces himself, rearranging his legs so he’s more comfortable on the hard ground.

“Hi Steve, I’m Jane and this is Millie. If she doesn’t take to you don’t be offended, she’s thirteen, so she really is a grumpy old lady and doesn’t like anyone,” Jane says, stroking Millie’s head and back.

Steve stretches his own hand out, petting Millie’s back too, and she stretches her neck out, sniffing at his arm before looking back at Jane and meowing in a low, scratchy tone. He grins at her, “She likes you just fine.”

“Well, she makes the decisions herself,” Jane says, scratching at the area right under the side of Millie’s face, making her rub her head into Jane’s hand. “Millie, say hello to Steve.”

Steve sits back, laying his hand out palm down in front of him, trying to seem unintimidating. Slowly, Millie stands up and takes a few steps closer to him, sniffing the air as she goes. Steve reminds himself not to hold his breath when she gets to him, sniffing at his knee and side before walking all the way around him. He smiles down at her, hoping he looks friendly enough. Apparently it works, because Millie looks up at him and meows in that same low tone and climbs right into his lap, laying her head on his thigh. Steve laughs a little, grinning widely and petting her behind the ears.

“Wow, she loves you,” Jane laughs, smiling too. “I guess you two must both be old souls fated to meet.”

“I guess so,” Steve says, scratching Millie gently under the chin, feeling a sense of pride at the rumbling purr she lets out in response.

  
  
  
  
  


When Steve gets home with his new cat, it’s a little awkward. He’s never had a pet before, and even though Jane gave him some pointers, he still feels out of his element. He puts the litter box he bought in the bathroom next to the toilet, and the food and water dishes on the side of the fridge. Millie watches him the whole time, already having claimed her spot on the back of the couch, tail swishing in the air, thumping against the couch. 

“Well, what do we do now?” Steve asks, scratching behind Millie’s ears again, his other hand on his hip. He only gets a meow in response, but his stomach answers for them both, rumbling loudly. “I guess it’s time for dinner.”

The first week is more of the same, with Steve and Millie both tiptoeing around each other. Although it might just be more of Steve tiptoeing around Millie, since she just goes and lays wherever she wants. Finally, on the ninth day of having Millie, things shift.

Steve opens his door to his little balcony and Millie races out from between his legs before he can even step out himself. He’s about to yell for her, worried she’ll jump onto the rail and accidentally fall off, but she just jumps onto the table next to his folding chair, hanging her front paws over the edge and meowing at Steve in a tone that sounds like, “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and get out here.”

After that it becomes a routine for them to sit outside together for a half hour each day when it’s nice. Steve buys a box of the cat grass from the pet store and sets it on Millie’s table. When she sees it she goes crazy for it, chewing obnoxiously on it while Steve sits next to her in his chair, sipping on a cold can of Coke. They birdwatch together, Millie licking her lips when a robin or pigeon flies a little too close, and Steve just laughing at her and the birds who seem as if they’re laughing at the fact that she can’t reach them.

By the time Steve’s had Millie for three weeks, he wouldn’t even disagree if anyone said he spoils his cat. Every morning she curls up in front of him at the table, carving a place for herself between his chest and his plate, demanding some of his eggs and reading the newspaper with him. Every night she either curls around his head on his pillow or on the free pillow next to him. He bought two cat trees for her, one small one to put in front of the door to the balcony for days when it’s cold out (so she can still watch outside), and one tall one with multiple levels and areas for her to lay down that he has against the right wall in the living room for her to use when she’s not laying against his side on the couch. There are at least 15 cat toys scattered around the house, and probably 10 more hidden in and under places that Steve can’t find anymore. Millie’s favorites are the laser light Steve moves around for her every night, and the catnip-stuffed mouse toy with ropes for legs and a bell on its tail. Steve thinks she’s surprisingly agile for her age, unafraid to jump onto the fridge, and climb to the top of her cat tree. She’s still visibly old though, resting more than she plays, and almost always having a borderline annoyed look on her face. Steve loves her to death.

  
  
  
  
  


The first person related to the Avengers Millie meets is Nick Fury. It happens the night Loki shows up and Fury comes knocking on Steve’s apartment door to hand deliver the files on his teammates, the tesseract, and what they know about Loki so far. He sees Millie laying on the back of the couch and just stares for a moment before walking over to her. Steve warns him she doesn’t like many people, but Fury just asks if she has claws (she does), and then cautiously pets her back. Steve watches anxiously as Millie eyes Fury, her tail swishing. She doesn’t growl, like she did at Steve’s neighbor Janice, but she doesn’t purr either, so Steve takes it to be a relationship of mutual respect and that’s it. 

After the Battle of New York ends, and Steve has cleared up as much rubble as he can for one day, he races home to Millie and hugs her on the couch for what feels like hours. Because she’s the best cat in the world and knows when he’s upset, she doesn’t even growl like she normally does when Steve tries to be overly affectionate. That night Steve falls asleep on the couch with Millie curled up on his side.

  
  
  
  
  


The second person Millie meets is, surprisingly, Clint. He comes over about a week after the battle and tells Steve it’s time for a game of two-person poker. They’ve just cracked open the two bottles of beer Clint brought over when Millie comes slinking out of the bedroom, meowing loudly and immediately stopping when she sees Clint sitting at the table with Steve.

“A cat? Ugh,” Clint says, nose wrinkling. “I really would have pegged you as a dog person like me.”

“Don’t say that in front of her,” Steve says, affronted by the implication that Millie is inferior to a dog. “She can understand you.”

“Sure she can,” Clint says, laughing. “Anyway, get to dealing.”

They don’t get very far into their game because Millie keeps jumping up on the table and swatting Clint’s cards out of his hand before laying in the center of the table. Steve personally thinks it’s rather funny, but Clint is getting more and more frustrated, so after the fourth time he loses his cards to a well-timed paw Steve carries her off into the bedroom and shuts the door. 

“I know, I’m sorry, but Clint’s my friend,” Steve says on his way out when Millie gives him a truly angry look. When he gets back to his table, Clint is shaking his head at him and snorts a disbelieving laugh.

“Man, that cat totally owns you, Rogers,” Clint says, reshuffling the deck. Steve just takes another swig from his beer and shrugs.

  
  
  
  
  


In between rounds of laser and relaxing on the balcony, Steve goes to meeting with his therapist and Avengers team meetings at the what is now Avengers Tower. When he tells his therapist about his cat she’s thrilled for him and says the improvement is noticeable from her end. If he’s being honest, she was right about getting a pet. Since having Millie Steve has definitely felt his mood get better and he has more motivation to do things he used to enjoy, like art. Half his drawings are of the city and half are of his cat, but before he stopped drawing entirely. His workouts have become healthier too. His therapist calls Millie his “in-house therapist” and Steve has to agree. She listens to all his ranting and venting, only sometimes judging him.

When he goes to the team meetings he always look at the progress being made on the renovations. They’re going along pretty fast and he knows it’s only a matter of time before Tony asks them all to move in. Honestly, despite their start, Steve gets along great with Tony now, he might even have a small crush on him. He thinks Tony’s one of the funniest people he’s ever met, and he’s almost too generous with his time and resources. Steve would want to say yes to moving into the tower in a heartbeat, but with Millie he’s not sure if it’d work out. She can’t just stay in Steve’s room all day, but she already barely tolerates Clint (“The feeling’s mutual” is what Clint would say), and Steve doesn’t know how she’ll react to anyone else, especially Tony.

  
  
  
  
  


At least part of his concerns are alleviated when Nat invites herself over for a movie night a few days later, walking into his apartment as soon as Steve opens the door with a bag of popcorn that’s half Steve’s height and an arm full of various DVDs. The popcorn goes on the floor between them, leaning against the couch so they have to reach down to grab another handful because Millie immediately takes to nat, curling so her head is on Nat’s thigh and one of her back legs is resting on Steve’s thigh. Nat tells her she can stay and get pets, but not to expect any handouts.

They make it through  _ Pretty in Pink _ and  _ Ferris Bueller’s Day Off _ (Steve’s favorite) before the movie becomes background noise and the night devolves into a gossip session where Nat works her magic by somehow pulling every secret out of Steve in between jokes about Clint and stories about Fury. When Steve, flushed, admits that he likes Tony after several minutes of subtle prying, Nat is thrilled.

“I knew it!” Nat shouts, making Millie startle awake, meowing in confusion and displeasure at being disturbed. Nat soothes her with two slow pets and a scratch behind the ears, still grinning like a satisfied cat herself. “Sorry Millie, but I knew your dad here was hiding a crush on our resident billionaire genius.”

Steve groans, embarrassed that he apparently hasn’t been as subtle as he thinks, and scrubs his hands over his heated face, “Millie hasn’t even met Tony, so she doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve,” Nat starts, eyebrows raised in surprise, and maybe disapproval. “You spend every free moment at the tower following Tony around, but he still hasn’t met your cat? Wait- Is that why you keep asking him when the renovations on the tower are going to be done with that forlorn look on your face?” 

Steve groans again, slumping further down on the couch. Millie lets out a low warning growl without opening her eyes when the movement shifts the paw she has resting on his thigh. Nat smirks, “Oh, my god, it is. You’re worried Millie won’t like Tony, or he won’t like her.”

“I don’t even know if he likes cats,” Steve says, knowing he sounds almost whiny. “I can’t move in if Millie has to stay in my room constantly.”

“Why don’t you just ask him?” Nat asks, rolling her eyes. “And honestly, knowing Tony, your room is going to be bigger than your entire apartment, so. Plus Tony is over the moon for you too, so he’d probably build you your own cat floor with connecting cat trees and tunnels if it meant the difference between you moving in or not.”

“How do you know Tony is interested in me like that?” Steve asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He doesn’t let just anyone follow him around. Also the fact that he magically always has time for you,” Nat says, patting his shoulder. “Seriously, just talk to him about the cat. I guarantee it’ll work out fine.”

  
  
  
  
  


Unfortunately for Millie, Steve taking Nat’s advice means she has to hear Steve pine after Tony every week even more than she did previously. Steve tries to be subtle about it too, slipping in questions about animals, pets, and then cats in every conversation. Within the first week he finds out that Tony’s favorite animals are lions and that he never had a pet, but wanted a dog as a kid so much that he built himself a robot dog.

“Isn’t that cute, Millie?” Steve sighs to himself on the couch, idly petting Millie where she’s laying to his side. “A robot dog. That’s such a Tony thing, I can see it so clearly.”

Millie doesn’t respond except to raise her head and give Steve a supremely unimpressed look. Steve chooses to believe it’s because of the robot dog and not because she finds Steve’s pining pathetic.

In the following weeks he asks Tony if he likes house cats (“Sure”), if he’s ever had friends who had cats (“Not really, but a few guys back in MIT temporarily fostered a stray”), and if he’s ever thought about getting a cat (“I honestly haven’t thought about getting a pet in general for years, so I can’t really say”). Every night he reports the responses to Millie and asks for her opinion, which generally ranges from an uninterested meow, to a “mrow” sound that Steve interprets as “please stop bothering me” because afterwards she gets up and jumps off the couch to go lay on his bed instead.

Steve is perhaps a little too confident in his covert abilities, thinking Tony isn’t onto him at all, because the next week when he asks Tony if he’d rather have a cat or a hamster, Tony sighs before turning to him from where he’s sat at one of his work tables.

“Are you going to let me meet your cat or not?” Tony asks, wiping his hands off on a towel. Steve gapes at him for a moment, shocked at both the confrontation and the knowledge that apparently Tony has known he has a cat this entire time. 

“You know about Millie?” Steve asks, completely ignoring Tony’s question.

“Clint told me about her right after poker night, and Fury mentioned her a few weeks later,” Tony smirks a little. “And even if they hadn’t, you’re not exactly subtle, Rogers. I mean really, framing all of your questions around animals and continuously getting more specific to pet cats is the best you could come up with?”

Steve doesn’t respond, just crosses his arms and glares halfheartedly. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best method of finding out how Tony would feel about a cat living in the tower, but he’d felt surprisingly defensive about Millie and didn’t want to come out and just say he has a cat, then he would have to worry about a rejection straight to his face.

Tony sighs, leaning back with his elbow on the table, “Listen, I’m honestly hurt here. How did  _ Clint _ get to meet this cat before me? He doesn’t even like cats!”

“Well,” Steve scratches at the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure if you liked them. Clint just invited himself over.”

“Why does it matter so much that you had to go sneaking around with all these questions, though?” Tony quirks an eyebrow, looking contemplative. “What’s so different about me, do I scare you that much?”

“No!” Steve rushes to say, because it’s not fear, at least not like Tony’s thinking. “It’s not you scaring me. It’s just, well, I care about your opinion the most, I guess. I mean-- Nat, Clint, all of us are going to be living here soon, but I can’t move in if I can’t bring Millie with me.”

Tony stares at him incredulously for a moment, his expression looking like a mixture of amusement and astonishment. Steve can feel heat crawling up the back of his neck when Tony lets out a short laugh, “You really thought that a cat, even if I didn’t like them, would pose so much of an issue that it would somehow impede your ability to move in here with the rest of the team? Steve.”

“When you phrase it like that it makes it sound like I have a lower opinion of you than I do,” Steve protests, scowling. He sighs, shaking him head at himself. “It wasn’t you not  _ letting _ me move in, I just didn’t want to force a cat on you. Nat said I was too worked up over this.”

“You talked to  _ Nat _ about this?” Tony asks, both eyebrows raised. Steve nods, feeling especially foolish about the whole situation. Tony rolls his eyes before standing up and walking towards where Steve is still standing by the door. “Well whatever, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours half the time, Rogers, but I guess it doesn’t matter. Come on, I want to meet the famous Millie.” 

“What? Now?” Steve asks, following Tony out the door and up the stairs. 

“Do you have a better time in mind?” Tony asks without turning around. “Besides, this is better than me just turning up out of nowhere with cheap beer, isn’t it?”

  
  
  


When they get to Steve’s apartment, Millie is sleeping in the top nest of the tall cat tree, peeking one eye open at the sound of Steve’s keys being pulled free of the lock. Steve watches her Stretch, back arching as she eyes Tony curiously.

“Hey Millie, I know I’m home early, but I brought a friend for you,” Steve says as he walks over to where Tony’s standing. Millie jumps down each level of her tree, and Steve notes the way it wobbles precariously, thinking about reinforcements or a replacement.

“Hi Millie, I’m Tony,” Tony coos when Millie lands on the coffee table in front of him, bending down to pet her head. Millie’s eyes flick to Steve at the introduction and he has a brief moment of wondering just how smart cats are supposed to be before he looks pointedly away. “Your dad needs to put reinforcements on your tree, doesn’t he? Yes, far too unstable for a gorgeous old lady like you.”

“Careful, you’re going to give her more of a complex than she already has,” Steve says, faux grumbling as he reaches down to scratch the spot where Millie’s back meets her tail. He can’t resist smiling when she sticks her tail and butt up as much as she can, shoving her head into Tony’s palm at the same time. “Oh she loves you.”

“Of course she does,” Tony sniffs, straightening up to go sit on the couch, Millie following immediately after and laying across his lap. “I’m that charming.”

“Well I can’t argue with that,” Steve says, sitting down next to Tony so he can join in on giving his cat love. He smiles down at her, feeling more than hearing her purrs rumbling through her ribs. When she looks up and sees him she lets out a small, pleased meow, stretching one paw out to rest it on his thigh and licking his hand before butting him with her head. Steve laughs, petting her in long strokes. When he looks up Tony is watching him with a soft, barely there smile and Steve feels himself warm.

“Rogers you are so soft for this cat, it’s adorable,” Tony’s grin widens and Steve shrugs in reply, smiling a little himself.

“What can I say? She’s the only girl for me,” Steve says, looking back down at Millie. She’s starting to roll a little, tilting her head so its upside down in the small gap between his and Tony’s thigh, her left front and back paw raised slightly in the air. She’s adorable and Steve, as always, melts looking at her. He leans back against the couch, resting his head so he can still watch her, and reaches out with his left hand to scratch lightly at her chest. Tony settles back more too, careful not to deserve the purring lump of fur on his lap, and slings his arm around the back of the couch behind Steve, close enough that he can feel Tony’s thumb on the top of his shoulder whenever he shifts and he has to force himself to stay relaxed and pray he isn’t turning red at the thought that if anyone could see them right they’d look very domestic.    
  


  
  
  


Eventually Tony’s tower renovations are finished and the team all receive their invites to move-in via email complete with an offer of moving help should they require it. Steve’s bittersweet about it, because he’s actually come to enjoy his apartment, despite its small size. Mostly it’s the neighbors he’ll miss, and Martha and Diana from next door send him off with a basket of their baked goods that he’s grown far too accustomed to. He promises them and Gloria that he’ll stop by to visit when he can, and bring Millie with him if she doesn’t protest too much.

Still, he looks forward to living with his team. He barely gets to see or spend time with all of them at once, especially since Bruce and occasionally Nat are the only ones who stick around after meetings every once in a while to socialize. It’ll be nice to be able to bond with everyone, build a little family. And it’ll be nice to live with Tony too. He’s been spending more and more time with him lately, and he thinks they’ve been tiptoeing around something. At least he hopes so, it’d be embarrassing to just be projecting his own feelings onto their friendship.

  
  


Of course, everything in life is easier said than done. The first two weeks are spent more in isolation than socializing because Millie isn’t acclimating to the change of living with no one but Steve, to living with a whole team well, and Steve refuses to leave her sit in his room alone for hours on end. Progress is slow; at first Millie will only come out if Steve is the only one sitting in the common area. After that she starts coming out when Nat or Tony are also sitting there. By the first month she’s gotten over the fear entirely, plopping down wherever she pleases and purposely irritating Clint whenever she can (Tony is amused to no end by it).

  
  


[Not that it’s actually important, but based on Steve’s observations, Millie’s team ranking is as follows: Steve remains number one (thank god, Steve honestly was a little worried that moving in with Nat and Tony would mean he’s no longer favorite), Tony, Nat, Bruce (who’s allergic, but still gives her a friendly pet every morning and sometimes sneaks her a treat or two when he thinks no one notices), Thor (“Loki was always more of a fan of cats, but I do enjoy they’re purrs”), and Clint (who has amassed numerous claw marks along his arms and always threatens Millie with declawing, but shuts up at Steve’s glares).]

  
  
  


As much progress as Steve has made since waking up in a new world, there are still bad days and bad nights. One of the biggest positives of adopting Millie is the emotional support. She sticks to Steve’s side like glue when he has a bad enough day that he doesn’t want to leave the tower, let alone his room, opting to lay on his lap while he tries to read, or on his side when he gives up on anything other than fitful sleep. On bad nights filled with visions of bombs and blood and aliens and faces of everyone who he lost or almost lost, Millie is always there, laying not far to begin with, but shoving her way under Steve’s arm when she senses a nightmare is becoming especially bad. She never even bites when he accidentally clenches a fist too tight in her fur when he shudders awake.

Which is why tonight is odd. He jolts awake in his bed, sighing as he notices he’s been sweating against sheets he just washed, and notices immediately the absence of a warm lump of fur from his arm. With another shiver he raises himself off of his bed, grabbing his hoodie from where he flung it earlier, and padding towards the door as he zips it over his bare chest. 

There’s light coming from the common area and he blinks against it for a few seconds, eyes struggling to adjust when his mind is still half in a nightmare. The light on is weird enough, since Steve was the only one here when he went to bed (Thor is off-world to help with an emergency someone named ‘Sif’ called him for, Bruce is at a lab somewhere in Belgium, Nat and Clint are off running some errands for Fury, and Tony was just- out), but combined with his missing cat, Steve is hesitant, muscles immediately tensed as he walks toward the lit room.    
  


As soon as he steps into the hall he hears a low whisper and pauses, brows furrowing in confusion. It sounds- and he hates doubting his own senses, but it sounds like someone having a casual one-sided conversation. He walks a little further, the voice getting louder. 

“That’s what always happens. I’m not actually the night owl everyone is led to believe, you know,” the voice says, still pitched low. It takes Steve a minute to recognize it as  _ Tony’s _ voice, but when he does he blinks in surprise, and confusion. He hesitates at the end of the hallway, but ultimately the curiosity wins out and he leans around the corner into the common area.

Tony is sitting on the couch facing the window, so Steve only sees his right side. That’s not what shocks him though, what shocks him is Millie sitting on Tony’s lap as he pets her and, apparently, confides all his problems in her. Not that there’s any judgment on Steve’s part, since he does the same more often than he’d admit, but it’s shocking to see Tony doing it. There’s a fleeting feeling of jealousy at Millie being here with Tony instead of back in Steve’s room, but Steve chastises himself for it and shoves it out of his mind. 

He suddenly feels like he’s intruding too much and goes to slink back down the hall to his room, but of course she wouldn’t be a cat if she didn’t occasionally make his life difficult, so Millie looks right at him as soon as he moves his arm and meows. Tony whips his head at Steve so fast Steve worries he might’ve given himself whiplash, and his eyes are wide like he’s been caught reading Steve's diary, not talking to his cat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Steve winces at his own voice, which sounds rough and gravelly like he hasn’t slept (which he hasn’t, at least not well). He feels himself warm as he watches Tony take in his appearance, relaxing back against the couch when he realizes Steve isn’t here for any real reason.

“Bad night?” Tony asks, hitting the nail on the head as always. Steve’s shivers again, eyes darting around the common area and then the kitchen, and fixating on the cereal dispenser he’d argued with Tony over when he first bought it.

(“I don’t get why you need to buy this when cereal comes in a box. Why can't you just pour it like a normal person?” Steve asked, arms crossed in front of him.

“It looks nicer than a box and also it helps keep the cereal fresher longer. No one in this damn tower- okay fine, don’t give me that look, no one in this tower but  _ you _ can close a cereal bag properly and it gets stale too fast,” Tony responded, pressing the button on the front of the dispenser. Steve watched the frosted flakes —  _ “I’ll concede to a healthier cereal, Steve, but they’d better not be sugar free,” Nat had said when she saw him writing up a grocery list _ — fall into Tony’s bowl and sighed.

“There’s so many unnecessary things now,” Steve grumbled and broke down the cereal box in front of him. “At least there’s recycling.”

Tony had just nodded and kindly didn’t inform Steve of the USA’s awful practice of shipping their unsorted recycling — and other trash — to poorer countries where it piled up because it arrived at an umanageable level. He’d had to find that out on his own.)

“Yeah,” Steve looks back at Tony and swallows against the sea of flashbacks and nausea rising in his throat and at the back of his mind. “I just- I woke up and Millie wasn’t there so then I went looking and I heated a voice so...” He attempts a smile and hopes it looks at least somewhat convincing. “Here I am.”

“Shit I’m sorry for stealing her from you,” Tony grimaces, nose wrinkling. “I just got back to the tower and couldn’t fall asleep myself and ended up here and she just came to me.”

“It’s fine, really,” Steve assures him, and the smile is easier this time. “She’s great. I’m glad she can help you too.”

“She is great,” Tony offers a smile in return before it slants down on one side. “But really, you can take her back to your room if you want.”

“No, I’m just going to try to get some more sleep on my own,” Steve’s mouth twitches a little. “Besides, she’ll do what she wants anyway. Goodnight, Tony.”

When he’s halfway back down the hall he hears Tony say “goodnight, Steve” back and bites down on his own grin that has no place on his face right now.

  
  


After that night it becomes more and more common for Steve to wake up and find Millie missing, only to see her laying with Tony on the couch. A lot of times Tony’s talking to her, and sometimes Steve will even join them and talk until they can’t keep their eyes open or the sun comes up, but other times she’s just laying in him while he’s passed out and Steve’s heart always clenches painfully at the sight.

It’s nice, having Millie be the link between them. Of course, it’s not just the cat tying them together, but Steve’s never been good at talking about things bothering him, and he feels like he can be a little too stiff of a listener at times, so having Millie be there as a sort of mediating presence means Steve gets to know a part of Tony he’s not sure he would ever have gotten to otherwise, and he learns to be more open himself. 

Another side effect of the “late night cat sessions”, as Tony likes to call them, is Steve's crush getting worse. Being trusted with a more vulnerable side of Tony and trusting Tony with his own vulnerability alone makes Steve fall a little more, but it’s small things that he starts to notice too that make Steve feel like the oxygen decrease by fifty percent whenever he’s in the same room as Tony. 

Small things like the way he sniffs when he’s telling Steve about something especially painful. Or how he makes mint tea when he’s had a nightmare, but plain green tea when he’s suffering from a bout of insomnia. Or how he’s found spots to scratch on Millie that make her left leg kick adorably and always asks her for help with a crossword or sudoku puzzle like she can actually comment, and then thanks her when he figures out the answer. His favorite, though, is the way Tony starts to lean into him when he’s getting more tired until he’s just a line of warmth pressed against Steve’s side and he sighs contentedly when Steve can’t resist running fingers through his dark hair, even though Steve blushes every time he does.

It’s one of these small things that Steve’s in love with that ends up being the reason he gathers enough courage to ask Tony out, though it's really more split second decision than any heroic act.

It happens after they’ve stayed up all night talking and the sun came up. Tony’s sitting at the kitchen counter spooning the last of his frosted flakes into his mouth while Steve finishes his shower. Millie jumps up on the counter and Tony pushes the bowl towards her, grinning as she immediately begins lapping up the leftover sugary milk.

“Don’t tell Steve,” Tony says, stroking down her back and smiling at the droplets of milk getting caught in the fur on her chin. 

“Steve is right here,” Steve says from where he’s leaning against the wall, hair still a little damp. He has one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face, struggling not to start laughing. “You know if she becomes lactose intolerant you’re going to be cleaning up any messes.” 

His smirk evolves into a grin as he watches Tony splutter and his face turn redder and redder a having been caught. It’s the most embarrassed Steve has ever seen him and it’s so endearing that he doesn’t even really think before blurting out, “Do you want to go out with me?” 

  
Tony accepts, of course, but there’s a solid minute where the kitchen is just the two of them with completely red faces staring at each other while Millie enjoys her milk.   
  


  
After that Millie becomes  _ their _ cat. There isn't any discussion of it, it’s just the way it is. She’s always with one of them and at night she sits between them on the couch or stretched out on their laps until they get up to sleep. Of course, Steve is an idiot at first (Tony's words) because he either stays in his room with Millie at night or locks her in there if he stays in Tony’s because he doesn’t want Millie moving in the night to disrupt Tony's sleep. But Tony tells him to stop being dumb and bring Millie with him and he does and Millie starts sleeping curled up between them in the bed or on the free half of Tony or Steve’s pillow when they’re cuddling as close together as possible. One of her scratching posts is moved into Tony’s room, too. 

  
  
  
  


Some time after they’ve been together, Tony buys a cat stroller and they go out together with Millie to the pet store for food, litter, and more toys she doesn’t need. Of course, Tony Stark and Captain America can’t go out together with a cat in a stroller and not be photographed, so they end up on every headline on social media the next day. Thankfully, the focus is more on the fact that they have a cat in a stroller, and not them walking together, so their relationship is safe from the vultures for now. Millie, however, is not safe and ends up becoming the Avengers’ team mascot, much to Clint’s annoyance. When they receive fanart in the mail now, almost all of it also features Millie, sometimes in her own superhero costume (Steve quietly — and Tony not so quietly — loves that the costume is almost always a mix of an Iron Man suit and the Captain America costume). Steve keeps several taped to the fridge. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter @gaycaps (or tumblr @wingheadd) if you’re interested in that sort of thing. Kudos and comments are always appreciated! my ko-fi is [winghead](http://ko-fi.com/winghead) if you're feeling extra generous/have the means! Thanks for reading!


End file.
